*CHAPTER 54*

*CHAPTER 54*
I elbowed Malcolm in the side, "Look," He followed where I pointed, his eyebrows going up, "It's the symbol from my vision. The one of the girl dancing at the club. Miranda." One of the murderer's victims.

"And the symbol we found in George's kitchen," his face drew tight as he considered, "I believe that means we just found our killer's hunting grounds."

I looked around dubiously, "George was almost seventy...I don't think was out frequenting nightclubs."

"It's possible he was here for another reason then. Let's talk to the bartender. See if they can tell us where Ricardo is."

I followed closely behind him as he squeezed his way through the crowded floor to the bar. People jostled us as we went, and the pain in my ribs flared up. Malcolm turned around, stopping so I could catch up, leaning down to say, "Stay close."

The closer I walked behind him, the less I was jostled through the crowd and we reached the counter. A few women eyed him appreciatively as he leaned onto the counter, to hail one of the people working behind the counter.

Someone tapped my shoulder from behind. Shocked, I turned around to see the person standing directly behind me. The man was tall, build almost lanky-like. Dressed from head to toe in all black, his hair reached his shoulders in frizzed waves. His skin was stark white and in the colorful lights radiating around the bar, he looked almost ghost-like. A wraith.

"Rebecca?" His deep voice held a note of confusion, expression stunned, skeptical as his eyes took me in. Then, "No, not Rebecca, but you could be her twin."

My eyes narrowed at the familiar name, but I gave him a small, awkward smile and made to turn away from him again. He stopped me with another tap on my shoulder that he quickly removed, "Are you related to Rebecca Montgomery?"

My mother's name coming from this stranger had me freezing in place, "How did you know Rebecca?"

"Did?" His pale, sharp features twisted in a slightly pained expression, as he read the unspoken meaning behind my words, "I take it then that she's—"

I nodded, "She passed away. Almost ten years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that." A spark of genuine remorse passed through his black eyes, as his eyes bounced over my face a second time, "Then you must be her daughter. Kassandra if I remember correctly. You've grown up."

The man didn't look like he could be more than twenty five—I couldn't imagine he and my mother ran in the same circles. If I were right about his age, he would have only been fifteen when she died, "How do you know my name? And how did you know my mom?"

"I met your mother a few times— I met you too, once. Though you were much smaller back then," His lips pursed as he considered, "The fact you don't remember tells me I did my job correctly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His eyes narrowed, "I take it no one has told you then? I guess that makes sense, with your mother having passed away. Though the spell should be fading by now—"

"Tell me what you're talking about. What spell?" Though we were standing in the middle of a crowded night club, people seemed to move around us, suddenly giving us a wide berth. As he spoke, the noise seemed to fade in to the background as I focused in on him. A line formed on his overly smooth skin right between his eyebrows, though it quickly smoothed out.

"The one to keep your powers locked down, of course," His gaze drifted down, but not in a creepy way, more appraising—eyes snagging on the Curse Mark branded to my wrist. It looked like a writhing tattoo in the streaming lights, "Though from the looks of it, you've figured a few things out already. Who gave you that Mark?"

Before I had the chance to respond, someone came up to tower behind him, one of the security guards by the looks of him. The burly guard whispered something in his ear that caused his face to shift. The guard pulled back and after nodding once at the guard, the dark haired man looked back to me, "Duty calls, Kassandra. I need to be off. But when you want to know more, I expect you to give me a call at my office."

"Wait," I started, but the feel of something being slipped between my cold fingers startled me into looking away, down at my waiting hand. I didn't see how he'd done it, but a business card had been stuck between my fingers.

Maybe not a business card. There was no name, just a phone number.

And...a riddle?

You cannot see it, you cannot hear it, you may not smell it, and you cannot fight it, but it will still kill you.